by MK Schiller
There were certain people in your life that could tell you that you stunk and you knew it came from a place of concern. These were my people.
“Preston and I did go out for six months. It’s not so easy.”
Stevie punched in a few keys on my computer. “I want to show you something.”
“Stevie, don’t do that. We agreed,” Marley said.
“It’s better she sees it here than by accident.”
“See what?” I asked.
Stevie turned the monitor to me. “I’m going to stop cutting now,” Dillon said.
I moved the chair closer as the deep movie guy’s voice came on, with little snippets of Preston rubbing against random girls. “One man and one hundred beautiful women. Who will he pick? America—you won’t want to miss this, because Preston Vanderfield is definitely Marriage Material.”
“I don’t understand. How can this be on already?”
“It’s filmed in sections. He was filming it while he was dating you,” Marley explained.
“He cheated on me.”
“Yes.”
“The fucker.”
“Yes.”
Marley took my empty plate toward the sink.
“I don’t know why I’m surprised. He never satisfied me, emotionally or physically.”
“What do you mean?”
“He never gave me an orgasm.”
Everyone paused, staring at me as if I’d grown tentacles. “Maybe that’s not all his fault. I’ve never had one. I think I’m just built that way.”
The plate slipped from Marley’s hand, falling hard onto the wood floor before it shattered into a million pieces.
“Marley, are you all right?” I moved to get up, but Dillon pushed me back down again.
“I’m cutting your hair, and unless you want a Mohawk to match your mullet, you’d better sit your ass down.” Stevie rushed toward Marley, helping her pick up the broken china.
“I’m fine. Did you just say you’ve never had an orgasm?” Marley asked.
“Yeah, but it’s not that big of a deal…right?”
“Um…yeah it is,” Stevie said. “And no one is built that way. Every girl can have one. Some just require a little more…coaxing.”
“I figured it’s because I’m so young. I’ve only been with two guys.”
“Ah…you’re not that young,” Stevie said. “And that’s plenty of guys.”
“It’s not like you guys have one every time…right?”
They both looked at each other and back at me. “Every. Single. Time.” They said in unison as if they were on a cheer team.
“You’re saying Rick always gives you one, Marley?”
“We’re not done having sex unless I have one. The same is true for him.”
“Stevie?” I asked. She and Adam had been married longer. Surely she didn’t agree.
“Sometimes Adam gets overly excited.”
“See.”
“But then I just ask him if he forgot something and he makes it up in multiples.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Swear to God,” she said, holding up her hand.
“Don’t swear to God when you’re talking about sex,” I censured.
“Why not? I take his name in vain many times while in the act,” she replied, a sly smile on her ruby lips.
Marley swept the last of the plate into the trashcan. “This explains a lot.”
“Like what?”
“Why you’re always so uptight, for one.”
I lifted my head up, staring at Dillon, who had yet to resume my haircut. “Hey, bro, help me out here.”
“Don’t look at me. I come every time. And it’s not exactly like I can fake it. Sometimes, I wish I could. It’s one thing you ladies have that creates an unfair advantage.”
“Did you ever tell Preston that you didn’t finish?” Marley asked.
“I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”
They both shook their heads. Marley wiped a tear away.
“Are you seriously crying, Marley? This is not that sad.”
“It’s the damn hormones. Plus, I can’t believe you’ve never climaxed.”
“It’s not a big deal to me,” I said.
“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t know any better.”
“By the way, how’s the pregnancy sex?” Stevie asked Marley, adjusting her glasses.
A crimson glow crept into her face. “I thought we lasted a long time before, but this is nuts. I have a lot of cravings, but none of them compares to my craving for him. Sometimes he walks through the door and I attack him, before he even gets his coat off.”
“Seriously?” Dillon asked.
“She does. I’ve witnessed that personally,” I replied.
Thank goodness for thick walls and noise-cancelling headphones.
But still, this was a time that Marley and Rick needed their privacy.
Another reason I needed to find my own place—and soon.
Chapter Six
“Billie, you look gorgeous.” Mom gasped as I entered the banquet hall.
“Thanks to Dillon.”
I had to give Dillon credit. I never thought I’d like my hair short but I loved the perky pixie cut he’d given me. It fell somewhere between sexy and cute, with its sharp layers and wispy bangs.
“Thank you, thank you,” Dillon said, holding his hands up like an actor winning a trophy. “I couldn’t have pulled it off if you didn’t have the right bone structure.”
He wasn’t a licensed professional, but he sure as hell could cut hair. Mom ran her fingers through my shorter hair. “You can see your pretty face now. You look like Twiggy.”
“I look like a twig?”
“No Twiggy…you know, the model.”
“Oh.”
Stevie put her arm around me. “I was thinking more along the lines of Keira Knightley circa Domino.”
I got that analogy and appreciated it too. Keira Knightley looked badass in that movie.
“Did you leave your keys at the door?” my mom asked us.
“I don’t have to worry about that¸ Mom.”
“Did you give any thought to the car?”
“I don’t need you guys to buy me a new car. I can manage.”
They could afford it, but I already felt like a leech. Besides, my mom had broken her back paying for my college tuition. I’d sworn I wouldn’t ask her for another cent after that.
“Why do we have to leave our keys?” Adam asked.
“This is a benefit to stop drunk driving. We considered having a dry event, but people are tighter with their pocketbooks so we thought this was a good alternative. You’ll get your keys back if you blow clean into the breathalyzer.”
Damien’s first wife and child had been killed in a drunk driving accident. The charity was very personal to him. My mom helped him run it when she wasn’t chasing my brothers around.
“That makes sense.”
I had to admit the event was elegant, with the men in their tuxedos and the women wearing sparkling evening gowns. I’d borrowed Marley’s purple dress. Its neckline dipped a little lower than I was used to, but it made me feel sexy.
“Hey, guys, guess they’ll let anyone in here,” Damien joked, approaching us.
“Yeah, the proprietor included,” Adam said, patting him on the back.
“Hey, boss,” I greeted Rick.
He smiled. “Glad you accepted the position. I have a ton of work for you.”
“Can’t wait.”
I Think of You by Rodriguez came on. “They’re playing our song, sweetheart. Shall we?” Damien asked Mom. She blushed and nodded. The man could still make her blush. A woman who’d toured with the Dead and ran on stage at Woodstock—not the original concert, of course—could blush at the slightest comment from him.
I smiled as each girl in my family took her guy’s hand and walked to the dance floor.
“Billie?” Marley asked, as Rick took her hand.
“Go
ahead, Dills will keep me company.”
Dillon nodded, placing his hand on my back and leading me to the bar.
“Look who’s here,” Dillon said, pointing to the bar. “I swear he’s the reincarnation of a Greek god and I believe he’s single.”
“Down boy, I don’t think he’s gay.”
“I wasn’t talking about me.” Dillon gave me a less than gentle push toward the bar. I almost fell right into him.
“Hello, Billie, you look beautiful tonight.”
“Derek, it’s great to see you,” I said, embracing him. Derek was Damien’s younger brother.
“I really like your hair.”
I liked his too—thick, black and wavy.
“Thank you. Dillon—” I turned to find Dillon but he was nowhere in sight.
“He’s over there,” Derek said, pointing toward the patio where Dillon and a waiter were conversing far too intimately for it to be a casual conversation. Damn, that boy moved fast.
“I see him. So, how long are you here?”
“About a week. I’m on break.”
“I’m sure Damien’s happy to have you home.”
“It’s good to be here, but I have to admit I’m tired as hell. I thought studying for my MCATs was grueling, but it’s nothing compared to playing with George, Paul and John.”
“Been there myself. Those boys can wear out the most physically fit person.”
“I blame your mom. She feeds them all that crazy healthy crap so they have more energy than most kids. Plus, she doesn’t let them watch television.”
“She’s always been that way. We were all raised like that.”
“Well, whatever she does, she’s doing it right, because she raised some exceptional girls.”
He was very complimentary tonight. There was something else in his eyes too—a glimmer of something.
“Your mom told me you broke up with Preston.”
Yep, there it is.
“Is she trying to set us up?”
“Nothing so premeditated. She was just making conversation.”
“I see.”
“Not that I wasn’t paying close attention.”
“Are you flirting with me, Derek?”
“I must not be good at it if you have to ask the question.”
“You’re very good at it and you know it.” The band started up what appeared to be a promising rendition of Tony Bennett’s Body and Soul. “Let’s dance.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He took my hand and led me to the dance floor. He was tall and his eyes were like liquid gold.
“How’s UCLA?”
“I’m interning now. I’m working for some amazing doctors. I miss Chicago, though.”
“That’s great, Derek. Or should I say Doctor Wolfe?”
“You would only need to call me that if you were a patient. I can’t see that happening.”
“Why?”
“I work in a limited field dealing with tumors and rare cancers.”
“That sounds interesting.”
“It is.” He tightened his grip around me. He was handsome, successful and kind, so why wasn’t my pulse racing? I thought about patting my chest to give it a jump start. “Billie, I’m home every few months. Would you like to go out sometime this week?”
My mom’s laughter interrupted the moment. I looked over and saw the cause. Damien whispered in her rear before he nibbled on it. I turned back to Derek. Whatever short-term spell that was happening broke with that laugh.
“This is weird, isn’t it?”
“You’re a carbon copy of your brother, who happens to be my stepfather.”
“And you look like your mother, especially when you smile. Not that your mom isn’t super-hot. Shit, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s okay. You’re right, this is weird. I mean you’re my…step uncle.”
He swallowed, lifting his collar away from his neck, his hold on me loosening. “Please don’t ever refer to me as ‘uncle’. I’m only a few years older than you.”
“I promise to never say it again.”
He kissed my forehead. “Take care of yourself, Billie. If it ever happens to stop being weird…”
“Then I’ll ask you to dance again.”
“And I’ll accept.”
I didn’t even get my first drink before my sisters and Mom assaulted me with questions.
“I saw you dancing with Derek,” Stevie said in a singsong voice, like we’d been kissing in a tree.
“He’s gorgeous,” Marley added.
“He’s a good man,” Mom, the voice of inward reasoning, said.
“He’s all that and a bag of chips,” I said, holding my glass up.
“Did he ask you out?” Stevie asked.
“Yes but we decided it would be best if we were just friends.”
“Why, sweetheart?” Mom asked.
“He looks just like your husband.”
Her face flickered with understanding. “That’s true.”
“I guess it might be a little freaky,” Stevie said.
“Ya think?” I asked, with an extra dollop of fresh sarcasm.
I didn’t add it, but I honestly didn’t feel any pangs of anything…no racing pulse, no dry mouth, no rapid heartbeats…not that I ever did. Except for one boy—the one who strummed a guitar like a man should stroke a woman. The very one I should stay away from.
“I think I’m going to go.”
“Are you sure?” Mom asked. “It’s early.”
“I’m tired.”
“I’ll give you a ride.”
“No, you guys stay. I’ll catch a cab.”
“Don’t take the bus,” Mom said.
“I can give her a ride,” Dillon said, swooping in from nowhere.
“I thought you were chatting up the cute waiter,” I said, elbowing him in the ribs.
“Now I’m chatting up the cute blonde with a kickass hairstyle. Let’s go.”
We kissed our goodbyes, which took an unreasonably long time. As my family grew, so did every hello and goodbye. I didn’t mind, though. Every person we picked up along the way made us whole.
As soon as the valet pulled Dillon’s car up, I asked him the question I’d been dying to since he’d offered me a ride home.
“Want to go to a bar with me, Dills?”
“Now you’re talking.”
Chapter Seven
We strolled in just as Evan finished his original song.
Dillon paused, taking in the lyrics. “Is he singing about…?”
“Yep.”
Dillon pulled out a bar stool for me. “A subject matter I have no interest in, but the song’s kind of catchy anyway.”
“Sure is.”
Tilla took our drink order and I introduced Dillon to her. He complimented her on the design scheme and, Dillon being Dillon, made some suggestions to organize the bar. Tilla seemed to appreciate them, and even jotted down notes.
I was thankful Dillon was having his own conversation, because I wanted to concentrate on Evan. He looked in my direction, giving me a nod and smile that would linger in my head long after it was over. His smile projected boyish mischief. A girl could get stuck in that smile. It was like quicksand.
“Here’s a song I just learned. I’ve been waiting to play it for y’all until the right moment.” He looked at me once more. “The right moment is finally here.”
My breath caught as he the sounds of Extraordinary Girl by Green Day came out. Had he learned the song for me? Was I the right moment? He sang it differently, making it his own and skipping the second part entirely. It was rock ‘n’ roll with a slight country twang and I loved every second.
“He sounds like sex,” Dillon whispered.
“Yeah, he does.”
He finished the song and made an announcement that they were taking a break. I grabbed Dillon’s sleeve. “Watch this.”
Just like last time, all the giggly girls followed Evan to the bar.
“He’
s like the Pied Piper with his rats,” Dillon said.
“It was mice. The Pied Piper had mice.”
“Do you know him?”
“Yes.”
“Billie…are you with me?”
I realized he was waiving a hand in front of my face. “Sorry, I was just contemplating something.”
“What’s that, kid?”
“What it’s like to be a rodent.”
He looked between me and back at Evan. “I gotcha. I definitely wouldn’t mind following his magic flute around.” Dillon hopped off the stool, heading to the bathroom.
“I like what you’ve done, Price.” Evan’s deep, raspy voice caused the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“What I’ve done?”
“With your hair.”
“Really?” I asked, feeling self-conscious of my new style.
“You don’t?”
I bit my lower lip. “I’m getting used to it. I’ve always had long hair. I miss it. It was romance hair.” I squeezed my eyes shut, cursing myself for that last bit.
Evan’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Romance hair?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Have no idea.”
I sighed, deepening my voice to an octave above whisper. “He threaded his hands through her long, silky strands. That’s what I had. It makes me sound vain, doesn’t it?”
“Nah, but I’ll tell you, I like this much better.”
“Anything’s better than the mullet.”
“This is better than the first time I saw you.” He leaned closer to me. “You have a pretty face. I like to look at it. And who says a man can’t thread his hands through your silky strands just because they’re shorter?” He didn’t quite thread, but he did tuck a wayward strand behind my ear. I struggled not to fan myself. Thankfully, Dillon came back just in time, his presence acting like the symbolic bucket of ice water I so desperately needed.
“Dillon cut it for me. Evan, this is my friend, Dillon.”
“Hello, Friend Dillon. I’m Friend Evan.”
“Then I guess we’re friends too,” Dillon said, taking his hand.
“What can I get you guys to drink?” He smirked at me. “Vodka?”
“Not tonight. I’ll have an Amstel Light, please.”
“Make it two,” Dillon said, “and bring me the bottle caps, please.”